


knights of eternia

by dear_universe



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Dresses, F/F, First Love, Knight AU, Knight Catra, Knight/princess au, Princess AU, Princess Adora (She-Ra), Royalty, Swordfighting, Swords, Tournaments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22792741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dear_universe/pseuds/dear_universe
Summary: in the queendom of eternia, the knights are its crowning jewels: strong, courageous, and beloved above all. and the princesses of eternia have a tendency to fall in love with them.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 435





	knights of eternia

**Author's Note:**

> hello i wrote this in a random burst of energy at 2 am after thinking about the phrase "princess + knight wlw" for too long, please enjoy

The queendom of Eternia was a wealthy one. Farmers brought in rich harvests, workmen invented new technologies, and designers popularized new fashions. Its towns were bustling, its fields bursting with grain and fruit. Its royal family was generous and beloved by all the land.

But above all, Eternia prized its knights. For they were not just heroes of legend but heroes of reality; defending the queendom from attack, competing in tournaments, and wooing all the women.

Each year, the queen held a tournament of all the knights in Eternia. Any young man could compete, from young trainees to battle-worn champions, and would engage in combat by sword. The winner received all the glory he could imagine, along with the queen’s favor and, often, her love. Generation upon generation of Eternian queens had loved a knight, produced heirs, and lived to tell the tale to their daughters.

As our story began, the queen of Eternia was a widower who had sworn not to wed another, but her daughter was not of the same fate. Princess Adora had fallen for a knight, just as her mother, and her mother before her, and her mother before her, and so on. But the knight Adora loved was not the one her family would have chosen for her.

To understand why this knight would be so disproved of, the story must first be told like this:

At the first tournament the young princess was permitted to attend, when she was thirteen years of age, she saw a young knight trip and fall face down on the tournament field, his helmet rolling to several feet away. Without thinking, Adora ran from her place in the stands and onto the field, ignoring the brush of mud against her fine skirts. She grabbed the young knight’s helmet and helped him to his feet.

And by Eternia it was lucky that her body blocked the view of the crowd, because the face staring back at her was that of a girl. Her warm brown skin was smattered with freckles, a blush rising high on her cheeks. Despite the dark hair cropped close to her head, the girl’s pink lips and bright eyes, one blue and one gold, made her unmistakably one who was not meant on the tournament field.

“Your Royal Highness,” the girl gasped, dropping to one knee with her head bowed.

“Rise, my knight.” Adora’s voice was soft, unused to giving such orders, the knight’s helmet still cradled in her arms.

The girl did as commanded, her head still bowed.

“What is your name?”

“I go by Sir Catra, Princess,” the girl mumbled. The crowd’s shouts behind them could still be heard; the queen was likely frantic.

“What a funny name for a boy,” Adora mused, a small smile quirking up the edges of her lips, and in that was a promise that she would never tell a soul. The princess handed the helmet back to the young knight. “Here, take my handkerchief. As a token of favor.” She handed the scrap of white lace to Catra, who tied it to the hilt of her sword with reverence. “The very best of luck to you, Sir Catra.” Adora dipped a curtsy, turning to leave only after Catra had her helmet firmly back in place.

That day, Sir Catra won more tournaments than any other knight of her age, the handkerchief never slipping from its place once. The queen spent the rest of the evening telling the princess she was too young to court.

After that, Catra and Adora just kept running into one another; at practice tournaments, at trainings, even at run-ins in the market. Always with the helmet on, and yet Adora couldn’t get the face underneath out of her mind.

One year later, at the second tournament at which the princess was in attendance, Adora requested to arrange a meeting with Sir Catra beforehand, so as to bestow her favor. And so she found herself in the knight’s tent, a chaperone positioned outside.

“Your Highness.” The knight dropped to one knee as Adora entered the knight, voice muffled through the grate of her helmet. “I did not expect to converse with you again.”

“Please, rise,” Adora requested, and Sir Catra complied. “I have come to give you this.” She pulled from her purse a handkerchief, pale blue and artfully embroidered with delicate lavender flowers. The pale purple matched to Adora’s dress, which was edged with blue ribbon. “You are a skilled swordsman. I find it only appropriate to give to you my favor.” 

“I will wear your token with pride, Princess.” Catra tied it around her wrist this time, the blue soft against the glistening metal. “This is fine craftsmanship.”

“My thanks.” Adora flushed pink, the skirts of her dress rustling as she stepped forward to whisper to the knight. “Meet me after the tournament beneath the stands. That is, if you wish,” she hastened to add, feeling Catra’s gaze warm on her cheeks.

“I will be there as requested.” Sir Catra lowered into a quick bow, then hesitated. “Princess?”

“Yes?”

“Have you told anyone about…” The knight trailed off, tugging at the handkerchief on her wrist.

“Not a living soul,” Adora promised, placing a hand over her fast-beating heart.

Just then, a trumpet blared, making them both jump. 

“Well, I had best be on my way.” Adora was talking far too quickly for a princess, and she hid her sweaty hands in the folds of her skirts. “All my luck to you, my knight.” And then she was rushing out of the tent before Sir Catra could respond.

That evening, after a tournament of much success for Sir Catra, the princess slipped away from the royal party and ducked beneath the tournament stands. The whole of the court had indulged in far too much drink, and Adora would not be missed for many hours; she intended to use such hours to her full advantage.

To her surprise, Sir Catra was waiting for her; the knight had even been so thoughtful as to spread out a blanket for them to sit upon so that Adora would not ruin her dress. Catra remained standing, leaning against a beam of wood, although she dropped to one knee when she caught sight of Adora emerging from the shadows.

“Princess Adora,” Catra murmured, her voice deeper and distorted by the metal. 

“Please, there’s no need to bow. We perform for no one here.” Adora held out a dainty hand, which Catra took with much trepidation, and helped Catra to her feet. “Let’s sit. And truly - it’s just Adora.”

They both sat on the blanket, arranged so as not to touch one another; the knight was on the very edge, armored legs sticking straight out, while the princess tucked her legs to one side and spread her skirts around her.

“Why did you ask me here, prin - Adora?” Catra asked after a beat of silence, during which sounds of laughter and revelry could be heard.

“I… wanted to see you again,” Adora replied. “May I?” Her hands hovered over Catra’s helmet, and after a nod from the knight, she pulled it gently from Catra’s head. 

The change was startling. Gone were the sharp, masculine lines of the helmet; Catra’s face was all soft curves and heart shaped lips and piercing, two color eyes. Her hair was longer than it had been at the last tournament, just past her chin, and it was still matted and sweaty from the exertion of battle.

Adora rested the helmet between them on the blanket and then rummaged in her bag, pulling out a small wooden hairbrush. “May I?” She asked again, reaching for Catra’s hair, and Catra, swallowing hard, nodded again. “Turn around.”

Catra awkwardly shifted so that her back was facing Adora, armor clanking as she moved. 

The princess first began by finger combing Catra’s dark curls, carefully unthreading each and every knot. “I wish I could be like you, you know,” she said as she worked.

“In what way?” Catra asked. It still felt so unnatural, to speak so casually with someone of the crown.

“I wish I could learn to fight,” Adora sighed. “I don’t want to be queen, or to marry a knight.” She turned beet red as soon as the words left her mouth. “By that I mean, I have no interest in men, not that I have a distaste for knights,” Adora rushed to correct. “Women are simply far the fairest sex.”

“I agree.” Catra almost let a laugh spill forth, but held it back. “Why aren’t you able to fight?” It was a foolish question, they both knew, but the princess still honored it with a serious answer. 

“My mother says it isn’t befitting a princess, or any lady.” Adora began brushing long, smooth strokes through Catra’s hair. “‘A queen has no need for violent tactics, only diplomatic ones.’” She took on a high, mocking voice, and Catra couldn’t help the small bubble of laughter that escaped. “Which may be true,” Adora continued, voice dropping back down to its usual timbre, “but there’s more than one way to help Eternia.”

“I don’t do it to help people,” Catra said after she had collected herself. Once again, Adora was struck by how much higher and softer the knight’s voice was without her helmet. It had an almost musical quality to it, and yet when she laughed, Adora could hear the sandpaper roughness in it. Adora could listen to that laugh forever.

“Why do you do it, then?”

“For the glory.” Joy radiated from Catra as she spoke, pulling the gauntlets from her hands so that she could wave them as she talked. “It’s selfish, but to my family and my town, I’m nothing. As a knight, I’m everything to Eternia.”

“The people do seem to love you,” Adora agreed, and she only just managed to withhold from adding on to the end of the sentence. “How did you learn to fight with such skill?”

“Do you know Lord Micah?”

“Yes, his daughter often spends time with me at court.” Adora’s hand accidentally brushed Catra’s jaw, and her whole body tingled at the touch.

“He runs a training camp for village boys who have hopes of knighthood. And since I had no other way of gaining such skills, I ran from home, cut my hair, and joined him along with another boy from my village, Sir Bow.”

“You don’t have a family, then?” Sorrow filled Adora at the mere thought. Her mother was not the best of mothers, but she still loved Adora.

“Not one that wants me.” And Catra’s tone of voice made it very clear to Adora that she did not wish to continue down this line of thought.

“All done,” Adora said instead, tucking the hairbrush back into her bag. “You may turn back now.” 

Catra did her awkward rotation once more, and Adora was again struck by the knight’s beauty. 

Impulsively, Adora leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Catra’s cheek, leaving behind a pink powdered mark. “I’d like to see you again, Sir Catra,” she said, her face shading even deeper. 

“I’d like to see you again too, Princess Adora.” For the first time that night, Catra’s face broke into a grin. “You’re much more interesting conversation than one would think.”

Adora gasped in faux offense. “And what is meant by that?”

“Only that I expected less from someone so high up in the world. But then again, I suppose you can afford enough tutors to be as smart as you wish.”

Adora pressed a hand to her breast as though she’d been pierced by an arrow. “You dare insult me?”

“I dare indeed.” 

“All you knights are the same. No discipline.” Adora dropped her hand, shifting close to the center of the blanket so that her fingers pressed to Catra’s.

And so, as they talked well past the moon’s rise, an unlikely friendship was born.

As the years flew by, that friendship grew into something more. From fifteen and holding hands beneath those same tournament stands, to sixteen and stealing sugar-clouded kisses in the palace pantry, to seventeen and love letters stamped with a royal seal, to eighteen and covering love bites up with blemish powder, the princess and the knight unwittingly fell in love, as had happened so many times before.

But now, they have both reached nineteen. And nineteen is no longer too young for a princess to court.

As Adora came of age, the queen decided that another tournament should be held, not a tournament of the queendom but a tournament in the princess’s honor. This tournament would be held a fortnight after the princess’s birthday, and the winner would be permitted by the queen to court Adora.

Catra had been predictably furious when she’d learned of the tournament. “All those men competing for you as though you’re a trophy to be won,” she spat. It was late in the evening, and Catra had snuck into the palace gardens to see Adora. “I’m the one who truly loves you, and yet I’m not permitted to compete.” Catra would surely be victorious, too; she was by far the best knight in all of Eternia. 

“I know.” Adora was seated on a stone bench by a crystal fountain, wringing her hands. “But it can’t be helped. I can’t marry a woman, however much I may want to.”

“You could.” Catra turned back to Adora, her mismatched eyes full of the same spitfire that had won her so many matches. “I could cut my hair again, pretend to be a man, ask the queen for your hand-”

“Catra.” Adora reached out and took her lover’s hand. “It would never succeed. Someone would discover the truth, and you would be put to death. I could never live with that.”

“Then run away with me!” Catra pleaded. “We can wear disguises, flee to the country, become ghosts. No one would care.”

" _ I _ would care. I’m Eternia’s only heir. I can’t leave that behind.”

“I know.” Catra’s head dropped, her chin meeting her chest in defeat. “I just cannot live without you,” she whispered to the ground.

“Nor I without you.” Adora lifted Catra’s hand and pressed a kiss to the knight’s knuckles, which were rough with scabs of battle. “But somehow, we’ll have to find a way.”

Suddenly, Catra lifted her head, her whole body straightening into a precise line of action. “I’m going to do something about this,” she stated, her hand clenched into a fist. “I’m going to fix it all, and then we can be together.”

“Catra, I-”

“Princess.” Catra pulled her hand from Adora’s and leaned down to cup Adora’s face. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” Adora breathed, and she was fairly confident that they both knew what Catra was going to do.

“Then allow me to take this in my care.” Sir Catra pressed a chaste kiss to her lover’s lips, then spun on her heel and left the garden without waiting for a response, leaving the princess alone in the sweet perfume of the night.

The morning of the tournament dawned without another meeting between Catra and Adora since their midnight rendezvous. Adora woke with her mind flooded with thoughts of Catra: what if she entered into the tournament? Or, a more frightening prospect, what if she didn’t?

“Princess!” The queen called, flinging Adora’s bedroom doors wide open and interrupting her train of thought. “Rise, daughter. Destiny awaits you.”

If only such a destiny could be avoided.

The princess remained quiet as she was bathed and brushed, as powders were applied to her alabaster skin, as she was laced so tightly into her corset that stars filled her vision. The dress that was tugged over her head was much the same as the one she’d worn on the day she’d first met Catra: pale pink, with a scoop neck, fitted bodice and sleeves, and a poofy bell skirt. As the maid pinned the princess’s honey-gold hair up, she could not help but to long for simpler times: when the expectation to love a man was many years away, and she could still spend days as herself instead of as Eternia’s future queen.

The tournament itself was overflowing with excitement; every young man and his sword eyed the princess in her place at the top of the stands, the crowning jewel in the life of a well-to-do knight. Any man could wear a suit of armor, and any man could wield a sword, but to capture the hearts of both the queendom and its future ruler was a skill that required true prowess.

Prowess that, for Princess Adora, no man could ever possess.

Adora scanned the field below her for her most favored knight, but could not spy the clean and shining lines of Sir Catra’s armor, nor could she see any of the handkerchiefs she had bestowed upon her love. Adora gripped the sides of her chair as the herald began to raise the trumpet to signal the tournament’s beginning. Catra was not going to make it, she would not make it, she-

_ There. _

Running into place at the very last second, a knight with a hand on the hilt of her sword, and tied to that hilt, a faded and worn white lace handkerchief. It was the very first token Adora had ever given to Catra.

In five years of tournaments, Catra had never once had a token slip from its place. 

“Let the tournament begin!” The queen called, and the herald blew the signal out across the crowd.

Match by match, the tournament proceeded. All a knight needed to do was land a non-fatal strike on an opponent, and victory was secure.

Within minutes, about half the knights on the field had been cleared out; those who were injured and those who lacked experience were easily disposed of. This left behind the dedicated knights, those who had won tournaments and spent their lives in training, and this turned it into a true battle.

Or, for the princess, a true nightmare.

Adora held her breath through each and every one of Sir Catra’s matches, gasping every time a blow came close to landing, her eyes fixed on that far-off dot of white lace.

The queen, of course, made note of this. “I see you have a favorite, Princess Adora,” she said as Adora drew together fistfuls of her skirt, worrying her lip as Sir Catra fought tirelessly below.

“Perhaps,” the princess responded, and made no further comment.

“He is a good choice. You two could make a fine match. If he wins, that is.”

Adora heard none of it over the buzzing in her ears. Below, Catra’s sword had been knocked from her hand, flung farther than she could ever reach. Catra’s opponent, a burly newcomer twice as wide as Catra, lifted his sword and placed the point beneath Catra’s chin. He swiped upwards and knocked the helmet from her head, sending Catra’s hair tumbling loose around her shoulders.

Adora rose to her feet and ran, the shouts of the crowd around her fading to nothing as she burst onto the field towards Catra, just as she had done years ago.

She bent to pick up Catra’s helmet and then walked to her knight, who dropped to her knees once more. Catra’s opponent tried to break in, but Adora raised one imperious hand, and he stepped back without question.

Catra looked up at Adora with worship in her eyes. Fear was there, too, of course there was. Fear of reaction, of the future, of what Adora would do now. But mainly, there was love in Catra’s eyes: pure, trusting, wholly adoring love. Adora knew at that moment that Catra would do anything she asked, no matter the cost. 

“Rise, my knight,” Adora ordered, her voice ringing out across the battlefield as clear as a bell. 

The crowd fell to silence with a hush. 

Adora and Catra were eye to eye now, and as their gazes met, an understanding passed between them. No matter what happened next, their love would hold true.

Then, Adora’s gaze dropped to Catra’s lips, and she allowed herself no more hesitation. 

The princess let the helmet fall to the muddy field and pulled the knight in for a long, deep kiss, full of all the emotion they had hidden from public eyes for five long years. Shouts rang out throughout the crowd, but neither Sir Catra nor Princess Adora held any care. They had waited too long.

After all, Eternia prized its knights, and its princesses always seemed to end up falling for them.

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked it drop a comment and come say hi to me on tumblr @amitylesbian ! i promise i'm not scary just gay <3
> 
> EDIT: [THERE'S ART OF THIS NOW](https://amitylesbian.tumblr.com/post/190905613934)


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